


Art Film

by taeminki



Category: NU'EST
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: There are four colors to Kim Jonghyun's life: black, white, grey, and Hwang Minhyun.





	1. Canvas (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> [ - soulmate!au in which you can't see color until you begin to fall in love with your soulmate - ]

Colors didn't make sense to Kim Jonghyun.

He knew he wasn't the only one, but he had yet to meet someone who was just as oblivious to color as he was, so he felt lonely. Colors were only understood by those who were in love-- those who had found their soulmates and had the pretty spell of love cast upon them. Jonghyun dreamed of the day his heart would spiral into love and color would burst from his chest. He dreamed of the day he would look back at his paintings and understand how lovers felt when they looked at a lonely man's artwork. He dreamed; he really tried to dream, but he could only dream in shades of black and white and grey, so the dreams weren't at all accurate.

Jonghyun was lonely in more ways than one. He was an introvert; he only had three friends. All three of those friends were in love-- two with one another, and the third with someone Jonghyun didn't know. Jonghyun wasn't even sure if he knew, yet. He doubted it; Minhyun would have said something.

So: Jonghyun was alone. All of his-- very few-- friends were in love; and Jonghyun wondered if he would ever find love. He was a hermit crab that stayed inside and painted all day. He craved a colorful sight so he might enjoy his art, but he'd heard before that art came from the heart, and colors didn't really matter-- only the message being portrayed, so Jonghyun began to figure he just had a desire for fitting in. (And he also figured that he wasn't destined to fit in; because no artist he'd ever known before had _fit in_.)

Jonghyun had never heard anyone else ask, "What is green?"-- not like he had. The question-- in the front of his mind-- embarrassed him, because he found that it was difficult for lovers to describe color. It wasn't something anyone could really _describe_ \-- it was one of those elements that can only be described by examples-- like grass being green, and trees being green, and "Your shirt is green;" because Jonghyun happened to have chosen a day he wore a green shirt to ask Minki what the hell green was. Color was strictly detected by sight. Color wasn't able to be felt or heard. No one could smell it, or taste it. It could only be seen, but Jonghyun's eyes had yet to fall in love, so he could only see black, white, and grey. Black, white, and grey-- the most boring colors, he'd heard. (And they didn't completely disappear when the eyes fell in love -- how disappointing.)

Jonghyun began to think of purple as he dipped his paint brush into a color called red, and he wondered if they were similar, wondered if he would ever find out for himself. He brought the paintbrush to the canvas-- a continuation of color on a painting he'd been working on for three weeks. It was a normal scenery picture-- a snapshot of nature with people interfering. The sky was a mix of colors-- purple, yellow, and orange, if Jonghyun could remember properly, and they were all blended together (as far as Jonghyun could tell). The grass was blue, though Jonghyun knew it should be green. The trees-- they were green. The car in the far back, black. The other details ranged in color, most of which Jonghyun had forgotten. He knew the squirrel peeking it's head out past one tree was pink. He didn't know what color squirrels really were.

Pink, Jonghyun wondered. Red? Was that similar? What about purple? And why were there in-between colors, like 'violet' and 'magenta'? Were those shades of different colors? How were they different? -- Why was the world defined by color? It frustrated Jonghyun to no end-- especially because the world _wasn't_  defined by color; Jonghyun's selfish heart just wanted to understand his own art. He wanted to look at his paintings and know the work of a lonely man.

Thoughts like these always crossed Jonghyun's mind when he was painting; it was the reason people were able to see the passion behind his paintings-- the anger and the loneliness and the selfish desperation. Art spoke thousands of words-- _thousands_ , and Jonghyun just wished he could understand what his paintings were saying.


	2. Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _From the moon, to the stars..._  
>  my world is still as grey as yesterday.

_Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?_ Jonghyun's phone asked, blinking a new text message from his restless best friend and a glaring 04:19 (yes, in the morning). Absolutely, Jonghyun thought, he should be getting some sleep, but who needed sleep on a Friday night? Jonghyun was taking some time-- a current break from his time, as he had his phone in his palm-- an effect of curiosity as his music went quiet with a new notification. Minhyun said, _Is my favorite artist awake?_  and Jonghyun smiled. He set his paintbrush down, and he moved his stained fingers over his phone screen, _You should probably ask him_.

Jonghyun knew Minhyun hated responses like that-- as if Jonghyun didn't know Minhyun was referring to him. Jonghyun put his phone down for a total of two minutes-- receiving a text message maybe twenty seconds after he'd sent his, but he wanted to finish painting the base of his tree before he started a conversation with Minhyun. He knew their conversation could go on for hours; and he didn't mind one bit.

 _Let's stargaze_.

Jonghyun chuckled. He sent a quick reply, _Where?_ , and began to clean up. His phone buzzed, and Jonghyun began to clean up faster-- paintbrush dipped into water and then into his jar of them-- paints covered up and tucked beneath his arm-- canvas left on his balcony to dry in the moonlight. It wasn't finished yet-- not even close, but Jonghyun would have time to finish it when the moon came back. He felt like he wouldn't be as inspired when the moon sank into the sky.

 _In our beds_ , Minhyun had replied-- and he'd sent two more messages that Jonghyun hadn't heard-- _I don't want to go anywhere_  and _I just want some company_.

 _I'll be your company_ , Jonghyun replied-- easy. He washed his hands; he changed his clothes. Sweatpants and a comfortable shirt, since he wasn't going out. A blanket-- a water bottle; he sat behind the window of his balcony, with the curtain tucked around his chair as to move it out of his way. He brought his messages to his sight again, and Minhyun had asked him a question. _Aren't the stars beautiful tonight?_

Jonghyun took a look before replying. There was an odd number of stars in the sky-- much more than usual. They twinkled a bright white light at Jonghyun-- but the kind of light that humans could bare to look at. It wasn't like the sun-- it wasn't bright and hot and intolerable, sometimes. The moon and the stars were always beautiful to look at; always tolerable; always gentle on the eyes. Jonghyun thought he didn't really need color if he could just look at the sky all night.

Eventually, Jonghyun turned back to his phone, and he replied to Minhyun-- _Yes, they're gorgeous_.

Minhyun didn't reply for a little while. Jonghyun figured he had fallen asleep, and that was Jonghyun's cue to maybe collect his brushes and paints and make his way outside so he could paint again-- or perhaps to wrap up his night, take his water bottle and his phone to his night stand and settle down for bed, but Jonghyun stay where he was. He was captivated by the stars and the soft music playing in his ears. The mix of the two was calming in a way that soothed Jonghyun's mind into thinking nothing-- nothing except the beauty of everything natural.

And then his phone buzzed, and Jonghyun looked down. _Can I tell you something?_

 _Anything_ , Jonghyun told Minhyun, genuinely worried. _Can I tell you something_  often didn't mean anything good-- for anyone, but especially for Minhyun. Sometimes, Minhyun had these moments in which a dark secret of his would come to the surface, and he would have to let it out before it tore through his throat. Those secrets were unpredictable, and they clenched their dark fingers around the faucet linked to Minhyun's eyes, and they stood upon the thin glass floor of Minhyun himself, waiting to jump and shatter it. Minhyun had to let it escape before it would threaten to hurt Minhyun.

 _I know who I'm in love with_.

Jonghyun choked up a little at that. The calmness of the stars suddenly didn't matter, and Jonghyun felt a pang of envy-- envy, because Minhyun could see color-- envy, because Minhyun understood Jonghyun's paintings from a sympathy point of view-- envy, because he wanted to feel just like Minhyun. But he couldn't be angry. He could envy Minhyun, but he couldn't possibly be angry at him at the same time. He was happy for Minhyun-- really; he just wished he could feel the same.

 _Do I know this person?_ Jonghyun decided to ask. He wondered, more than that, how long Minhyun had known, and why he'd kept it a secret. He wondered if Minhyun had told that person yet. He wondered if Minhyun was scared. He wondered, and wondered-- until Minhyun answered all of his questions with one message.

 _It's you, Jonghyun. I've been in love with you for three years_.

Jonghyun's throat went dry, looking at the message. For a second, a wonder of _Is he joking?_  flashed through his mind, but that was stupid-- Minhyun wouldn't pull stupid pranks like this. Minki, yes. Minhyun, no. And Jonghyun had no idea what to do-- no idea how to reply. Minhyun was his soulmate; Jonghyun wasn't in love with him. How the hell did that work?

Another buzz; Jonghyun looked down. He could practically hear Minhyun's anxiety through the message, _Jonghyun? Are you okay?_

 _Yes_ , Jonghyun told him. He had no idea what to say after that. He couldn't think. He should accept the confession-- but _how?_  How did he accept Minhyun's love without loving him in return?

 _Can I call you?_  Minhyun asked next, and Jonghyun thought that was a terrible idea, because he couldn't think enough to send a _text message_ \-- how was he supposed to speak? But he sent Minhyun another _Yes_  anyway, and he waited, anxious, for some moments before Minhyun called.

"I'm so sorry," was the first thing Minhyun said-- a rush of words and gentle apology. His voice was soothing, Jonghyun noticed. _His voice is beautiful_ , another part of Jonghyun noticed-- some little thought in the back of his head that was too natural and comfortable for Jonghyun to question. Minhyun's voice interrupted anyway-- a kind of gentle interruption that Jonghyun didn't think existed, "This is a really shitty thing to do over the phone, I just-- I couldn't wait anymore. I-I-- you don't have to say anything, I know this is sudden. I'm sorry."

"Why...." Jonghyun paused. He had the question on the tip of his tongue, and it faded as soon as he opened his mouth. He gulped; he breathed; it came back to him, "Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I-- I didn't want to pressure you?" Minhyun said, a touch of doubt in his voice, like he knew he would have to explain. The silence told him that, indeed, he had to, "I just-- I saw color because of you, so you're obviously my soulmate, and eventually-- eventually, you'll fall in love with me, too, but... I didn't want to do this to you. I didn't want to tell you that you'll eventually fall in love with me because... that's scary. That's-- it's like.... I shouldn't have said anything."

"No. No, it's okay," Jonghyun told him-- quiet, because his voice was starting to fail him. He felt the pressure; he felt what Minhyun was so scared of making him feel. He was going to fall in love with Minhyun-- his fate was set. He wondered why he felt pressured because of that, and then his mind flashed to color-- the color he'd been craving, the desire to understand his art from a lover's point of view, and his throat tightened with desire. _Color_.

"I'm so sorry, Jonghyun." Minhyun said. Jonghyun gulped, trying to loosen his throat so, perhaps, he could get some words out. _Color_ , he thought, but he stopped. He stopped, because this wasn't about color. He stopped, because this was about _love_. His mind flashed to Minhyun-- Minhyun, who had been waiting for over three years for Jonghyun to fall in love with him-- Minhyun, who was in love with Jonghyun and wasn't loved in return-- Minhyun, who had to spend almost every day with Jonghyun and long for him-- Minhyun, who must have understood loneliness much more than Jonghyun-- Minhyun, who saw Jonghyun's loneliness through color and envied him.

Jonghyun felt his throat tighten again-- with guilt, this time. Minhyun, his best friend, waiting for Jonghyun to fall in love with him every day. Waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Jonghyun gulped; why hadn't he thought of Minhyun before? He'd known, for years, that Minhyun was in love with someone-- and he hadn't bothered to think about Minhyun suffering until now, when he found out he was the cause of it. Jonghyun tried to gulp the guilt back into his throat, but he thought it was there for good, now. How narrow-minded could he be?

"Can I come over?" Jonghyun asked. His arms were numb, and he needed to give Minhyun a hug. That shouldn't be too difficult; Minhyun only lived about four houses down. Minhyun was silent for a moment; his voice came back hushed, "Please don't push yourself to love me, Jonghyun. It's going to happen eventually."

"I know. Just-- can I come over?" Jonghyun asked. Minhyun sighed softly, and then he said, "Yes. You can come over."

Jonghyun didn't say anything else before he hung up. He stood; he grabbed his shoes; he abandoned his phone and his water and he practically ran to Minhyun's house. Minhyun was waiting outside when he got there; Jonghyun immediately pulled him in for a hug-- the kind of desperate hug that Jonghyun had never experienced before. He held onto Minhyun, and all that guilt poured into his arms. He tucked his chin over Minhyun's shoulder; he shrugged his shoulder up into Minhyun; he curled his fingers into the back of Minhyun's shirt. Minhyun's hug was much more gentle-- gentle, like Jonghyun was something precious; gentle, like Jonghyun needed to be handled as such; gentle, because Minhyun was _in love with him_.

"I'm sorry--"

"Don't be. Don't feel guilty. I-I didn't want you to feel guilty, either." Minhyun said. His shoulders fell-- with a sigh; a breath of disappointment in himself, "I should have kept this to myself-- I'm so sorry, Jonghyun. I'm so sorry."

"Don't. It's okay-- I'm glad you told me." Jonghyun said. He finally let go, though his guilt hadn't yet melted. He wondered if he ever would-- taking his friend's love for granted, even if for just a minute, when Minhyun needed him-- when Minhyun was suffocating because he'd been drowning himself for three years. Jonghyun smiled at Minhyun-- a gentle smile, not nearly as gentle as Minhyun had held him, "You know... often times, it's the love confession that sets the other person in motion."

"It's still a lot of pressure in the meantime." Minhyun said. He looked down at the ground, and it was when he sniffled, in the next moment, that Jonghyun noticed he was crying. It wasn't much-- just a drip of a tear falling from his cheek. Jonghyun reached forward to wipe away the trail of sadness it left on Minhyun's face, and he was happy to see Minhyun smile when it was gone.

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight," Minhyun said randomly, with a small chuckle. He was trying to break the silence and the tension; and Jonghyun let him. As much as he wanted to talk about Minhyun's love-- like, perhaps, what he felt for Jonghyun; and, even more selfish, what it felt like when the color blossomed around him-- but he didn't bring up any more questions. Instead, he gave a gesture-- with his head and his hand, "Come over."

"Uh-- oh-- okay," Minhyun said. He held up a finger-- pointer finger, telling Jonghyun to wait just a second. He opened his door, and he left it open-- open for Jonghyun to come inside if he wished. And Jonghyun did; he stepped into Minhyun's home and shut the door behind him. Minhyun's home led straight into the kitchen. The dining room was to the right; the living room was to the left. There was a hallway past the kitchen, with a closet beneath the stairs and a bathroom to the right. The stairs led up to an open area with four dours-- two to the front, and one on each side. The guest bedroom was to the right. Minhyun's room was straight ahead-- the door on the left. Next to that, Minhyun's office. To the left of the stairs, a guest bedroom. Both bedrooms had bathrooms and walk-in closets. (Minhyun was pretty rich.)

Jonghyun stopped admiring Minhyun's home as he walked up to Minhyun's room. His bedroom door was open, and Jonghyun peeked inside. Minhyun had a bag over his shoulder, and he was standing to the left of his bed, folding a notebook open and then tossing it aside-- grabbing another and closing it after he'd twisted it open. He looked up, and he smiled at Jonghyun. He grabbed his phone, his keys, and he walked past Jonghyun-- down the stairs. Jonghyun followed him, shutting Minhyun's bedroom door after him. (Minhyun liked his doors to be shut.)

Minhyun toed his shoes on; Jonghyun put his back on, a little less graceful. He followed Minhyun outside, and he led the way to his home, even though Minhyun knew the way. They sent their time in silence. Jonghyun kind of wanted to ask about the notebook. He already knew a little bit-- Minhyun was a writer (a _very_  famous writer) and he was likely working on a new idea. But he wanted to know what that idea was. He was curious.

"Do you still want to stargaze?" Jonghyun wondered as he was opening his front door. He hadn't bothered to lock it-- something Minhyun often scolded him for, but not tonight. He simply walked into the house and placed his notebook on the desk. Jonghyun's house opened up into a living room, like most houses. To the left, there was his kitchen-- combined with his dining room, which made both rooms quite small, but Jonghyun would never need anything bigger. There was only one door to the right, and that was a storage closet. In the corner, there was a staircase-- spinning around just at the base to lead to the second floor, part of which Jonghyun could see from the middle of his living room. Upstairs, there were three rooms-- a bedroom, a guest bedroom, and Jonghyun's art room. His bedroom had a balcony. The guest bedroom had a walk-in closet. (Jonghyun slept in the guest bedroom sometimes; but he always made sure it was tidy.)

"Yes," Minhyun answered. He dropped his bag in front of the coffee table-- neatly, and he started up the stairs after taking his shoes off, placing them on the mat beside the door. Jonghyun followed him, carrying his shoes back to his room. He felt oddly comfortable that Minhyun was leading the way-- that Minhyun knew his home so well. He also liked that Minhyun slid the door of his balcony open and stepped out instead of pulling a chair up to the window. Jonghyun noticed Minhyun's notebook under his arm-- something he hadn't seen Minhyun pick up. As a thought, Jonghyun grabbed his sketchbook and two pencils before he joined Minhyun on the balcony, grabbing the chair on the way out.

"Here," Jonghyun said softly, setting the chair down for Minhyun, handing him a pencil, too. Minhyun smiled to say his thanks, and he settled in the chair-- pulled his legs up onto it. He didn't look comfortable-- looked very cramp, actually, but Jonghyun knew the position helped him think. Being curled up like that fueled his creativity, somehow. Jonghyun didn't ask how; every artist had their method.

Jonghyun moved his painting to the side so that he could sit next to Minhyun-- turned his chair to face him. He settled on the chair on his knees, sitting back against his calves. He knew he was in an odd position as well, but he liked to sketch like this. He liked that his muse could see his drawing. (He also like that Minhyun didn't notice for a while-- it was a cute kind of amusing to him.)

"Are you drawing me?" Minhyun asked, glancing over at Jonghyun's sketchbook. Jonghyun nodded-- silent. Minhyun smiled softly, and Jonghyun almost asked him to keep the smile up, but he rather Minhyun be natural-- for Jonghyun could pull pieces of his sight and put them into the sketch; he could draw the motion of Minhyun over twenty minutes in one single frame.

"Do you want me to sit still?" Minhyun asked, and Jonghyun shook his head-- silent again. He frowned for a moment, focused on sketching the outline of Minhyun's face. He glanced up to memorize his eyes again, and he drew them from a three-quarter view. And then he answered, "Just be natural."

And so Minhyun was. For the next half an hour, both of them were silent-- silent as they worked on their art. Minhyun's fingers moved fast as he wrote down words; Jonghyun's fingers moved faster as he drew Minhyun into his sketchbook. It was a sloppy sketch-- nowhere near his best work, but he turned it to show Minhyun anyway. Minhyun's smile was brighter than the stars; and he reached for the sketchbook so that he could study the drawing closer.

"You're so talented-- no wonder you get so rich off of your paintings." Minhyun said. _Your paintings_ \-- Jonghyun's throat tightened again with envy and guilt. He remembered that Minhyun could see the color of his paintings; he remember how much he, too, wished he could see the color of his paintings. But Jonghyun said nothing-- couldn't, really, because his throat was clogged with emotion. He could only smile and take his sketchbook back when Minhyun handed it to him.

"I think we should sleep," Minhyun said. He tapped his pencil against his notebook and stared at the words he had written-- quite a few for half an hour. Jonghyun had seen him turn the page at least four times, but he wasn't exactly counting. In his sketch, Minhyun was turning a page, and there were various, illegible things written into the pages. Jonghyun wondered if Minhyun wrote about the stars, or the moon, or the color in the sky, but he didn't have a chance to ask-- "It's late, and my writing isn't going well... unless you still want to stargaze."

"No. I think we should sleep, too." Jonghyun said. He stood, and he stretched his sleepy legs. They were not very happy with him-- aching in pain because he'd sat on them for too long. Minhyun's body wasn't happy with him either; some of his bones cracked and creaked and Minhyun let out a small sigh, a pout, "I feel so old," and Jonghyun laughed past the close in his throat. He picked up his chair, and he slid the glass open. Minhyun picked up his chair, too, brought it inside after Jonghyun. He turned to Jonghyun when their chairs had settled in the corner, when the glass door was shut, and he pulled Jonghyun into a hug-- a soft hug with soft feelings. Jonghyun hugged him back with his own confused emotions; and his heartbeat matched Minhyun's for just a second--

"Goodnight," Minhyun told him, softly interrupting Jonghyun's attentive listening to their hearts beating. And then Minhyun pulled back-- another soft interruption of their hearts beating, and he left the room-- pressing Jonghyun's pencil into his palm before exiting. He closed the door after him; and Jonghyun didn't care whether his doors were open or not, but Minhyun had made it a habit of his to close all doors.

Jonghyun heard Minhyun's gentle footsteps head toward the stairs; he heard some rustling around as Minhyun must have picked up his things, and then he heard Minhyun travel up the stairs again, and the soft close of the door as Minhyun retired to the guest bedroom for the night.

Jonghyun finally stopped zoning out. He had barely done anything to prepare to sleep-- had only put his sketchbook and his pencils back in the closet. He was too focused on Minhyun; his mind was swarming, but he couldn't catch the thoughts. So he, too, retired to bed after spending a moment in the bathroom-- brushing his teeth and studying the blacks and whites and greys of his home.


	3. Real Love, True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I will find my love_ ;  
> blacks and whites and greys (almost) fade away.

Jonghyun began to understand Minhyun's regret about three months after their night of love confessions and stargazing.

Jonghyun began to feel differently for Minhyun after that night, and it confused him to no end. He felt as though his feelings weren't valid-- as though they were only there because of the guilt he felt over the fact that Minhyun wasn't loved. He knew he hadn't fallen in love, because he still only saw black and white and grey. He felt bad about it-- of course, because his best friend had been suffering this whole time, suffocating in one-sided love, and Jonghyun had been so unaware. So focused on finding love, so unfocused on his love.

Other than his internal feelings, nothing changed. If Jonghyun didn't know any better, he'd have thought Minhyun forgot he ever confessed. He was the same old Minhyun with the same old jokes and the same old attitude and the same old spark in his eyes. Sometimes, as of recent, Jonghyun would find himself caught in his eyes, and he would think _they're going to be beautiful in color_.

Color. Jonghyun still couldn't get his mind off the damn shades of life. Guilt was a constant. His mind was focused on color but his heart was focused on Minhyun, and his heart constantly made his mind feel guilty. _How dare you continue to focus on color, Jonghyun? Your best friend-- your **soulmate** is suffering, and all you care about is color. You're a horrible person. You don't deserve to see beautiful color; you don't deserve to love Minhyun; he deserves better than you_.

Jonghyun could hardly paint anymore. He would settle with his canvas, his paint, his brushes; and that's where he would freeze. All his focus would leave, and all he could think about was the fact that _I don't deserve this_. He didn't deserve to handle color if he couldn't appreciate it for what it was; if he was only using it to release his loneliness. His fingers would go weak around the paintbrush, and he would have to put everything away. He would call Minhyun; he would ask him how he was doing. Sometimes Minhyun would be writing, and his responses would be delayed. Jonghyun would ask "How are you doing?" and there would be faint typing noises in the background, and an eventual rush of "I'm good! How are you?" and Jonghyun would let himself talk for a while-- just a faint background noise to compliment Minhyun's typing. And Minhyun would hum along; and Jonghyun wondered, sometimes, if Minhyun ever actually heard him, but he decided he didn't mind. Minhyun would always call back some hours later, with an apology of "I'm so sorry, I-I was writing--" and Jonghyun would just laugh and tell him it was fine-- it was okay. He had a right to enjoy the black and white of his words while Jonghyun was tripped up about color.

Three months of not painting, and, finally, Jonghyun decided he needed someone to talk to-- someone that wasn't Minhyun, because he needed to talk to another lover-- someone who was in love, but not with him. He called Minki instead, and asked if the two could meet at the coffee shop in the middle of town. Minki was glad to hear from him; he agreed, told him to meet him there in twenty minutes. Jonghyun was more prepared for a further date-- like _tomorrow morning_  or _next Saturday_ , but Minki had always been there-- and if he couldn't be there for a friend right away, he felt like he'd failed.

"Took you long enough," Minki joked when Jonghyun walked in. Minki was already sitting at the coffee shop, and he'd already ordered something. Jonghyun was keen on going straight to him, skipping the coffee part. He didn't need coffee; he needed someone to talk to. And so he did-- he ignored Minki's comment and began to spill, "Minki, I... I did something stupid."

"That's new." Minki said. Jonghyun couldn't look at him, but he could imagine the little smirk, the interest in his eyes. He could imagine his expression by his words, his tone of voice, "It's not like you to do stupid things."

"I mean, I guess I didn't really _do_  anything, but... that's the problem. I've been oblivious." Jonghyun said. He wondered if he should tell Minki what Minhyun was feeling; he wondered if that was a secret he was allowed to share. He wondered, but he didn't think too much-- "Minhyun told me he was in love with me, and that he's known for three years. _Three years_ , and I've just been so oblivious. This whole time, the-- the only reason I ever wanted to fall in love was to stop feeling lonely."

"Don't we all want to fall in love for that reason?" Minki asked. Jonghyun looked at him-- finally, and noticed he was blurry. Minki was blurry-- wow, Jonghyun was crying. Jonghyun reached for a napkin and roughly wiped his cheeks. White turned grey; and Jonghyun wondered what color his tears were. And then he blurted, "Do we?" because he had to stop thinking about color; he had to start focusing on what was important.

Minhyun.

"I think so." Minki said. Jonghyun looked down at his napkin, finding it difficult, again, to look Minki in the eye.

"Even if we do... I've always thought lonely could only be black and white. I figured the definition of lonely was black and white, but when Minhyun told me he loved me... he's been lonely all this time. _All this time_ , he had to be right by my side, and love me with everything he had, and not get an ounce of it back. Doesn't that sound a hell of a lot lonelier than me?"

Minki began to nod, and then he stopped. He tapped his cup, he thought for a moment. Jonghyun couldn't see his face, but he glanced up enough to see his fingers-- considerate, thinking. And then his voice flooded through, "That would be a better question for Dongho, I think. He fell in love before I did-- so I'm with you. I've never felt lonely. Not the way Minhyun and Dongho have."

"Were you desperate to see color? The way I am?" Jonghyun asked. Minki shook his head, "No. I didn't give a damn about color-- never have, still don't. It's spectacular-- of course it is, but it doesn't compare to how I feel. I wouldn't give two fucks about color as long as I had Dongho."

Jonghyun's heart floated at the sweet words; and then it drowned again as his mind wondered what color his heart was, "Do you think it's irrational that-- that I'm so obsessed with color?"

"No. But I don't think you're obsessed with _color_ \-- you're obsessed with being alone. Rather, not _wanting_  to be alone." Minki said. Jonghyun looked at him only to find that Minki wasn't looking back. He was staring at his cup of coffee; but his eyes floated up-- up to look at Jonghyun, to tell him "You're an artist. It's natural that your mind would make the excuse that you just want to see color, but you don't. I know you don't-- you want to know what it's like to be in love. You already have that figured out, Jonghyun-- you've just yet to accept it."

"I always tell myself I want to know what loneliness looks like from a lover's point of view-- that-- that I want to look at my paintings and see the colors and pity myself-- the way I was before I fell in love. The mixed up colors, the ugly blotches of colors that don't mix.... I feel guilty for that, because I-I feel like-- when I fall in love with Minhyun, I'll just be using him. I feel like I'll never be in love because-- because I already perverted it."

"You're not going to feel like that." Minki said-- promised; and his eyes told Jonghyun he was _sure of it_. "You're going to fall in love, and you won't care about color anymore. For a week, maybe two, you'll be able to look at a brand new world, and your mind will focus on that-- but, at the end of each day, your mind will trail back to the fact that you're in love, and you'll realize that that's the most beautiful thing in the world."

Jonghyun nodded along, and Minki wrapped it all up with, "You won't give a damn about color-- you'd give up color as long as you could have Minhyun."

 

 

That night, Jonghyun called Minhyun. The two had a long conversation together-- about Minhyun's new book, about something Jonghyun had finally gotten enough inspiration to paint. It was a heart-- a simple, realistic heart that was colored orange and pink and some other color that Jonghyun hadn't labelled. Minhyun laughed softly when Jonghyun told him about the colors, when Jonghyun asked what color hearts were. Minhyun told him that his heart could be whatever color it wanted to be, or whatever color he wanted it to be. Jonghyun asked if blue was a good color for a heart. Minhyun answered-- "Only if you're sad."

"What about white?"; "You might be dead."

"Pink?"; "That's pretty."

"Orange?"; "A little strange."

"Red?"; "Scientific."

"Purple?"; "Passionate."

"What's your favorite color, Minhyun?"; He didn't get an answer.

"You should go to sleep, Jonghyun. I think I should, too-- it's late." Minhyun said. Jonghyun glanced at the clock. 1:34; it was, indeed, late. Jonghyun wanted to press; he wanted to ask Minhyun, again, what his favorite color was, and try to convince him to answer, but he decided against it. Minhyun wanted to sleep; Jonghyun should let him.

"Okay. Goodnight, Minhyun-- sleep well, okay?" Jonghyun asked. Minhyun agreed, "I will. You sleep well, too, Jonghyun.... I-I love you."

The last part was quiet enough that Jonghyun almost didn't hear it. He didn't have time to ask questions, or to say anything. Perhaps that was a good thing, because Jonghyun had no idea what to say. His brain was running wild, trying to find words; and then it went quiet, calm at the click of his phone, the _End Call_  that Minhyun must have pressed. Jonghyun looked at his phone screen, the fading picture of Minhyun, and he put it down against his thigh.

 _I love you_ , Jonghyun thought, the words painting his lips in a smile. He lay his head back on his pillows; he stared up at his white ceiling. _I love you_ ; and Jonghyun's heart fluttered with it all. He reached for his lamp and flicked it off-- decided to skip his nightly routine on the off chance that seeing everything in black and white and grey would drown his heart and mind in the lack of color. _I love you_ ; and he wished he would have loved Minhyun sooner.


	4. Love Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Painting, painting_ ;  
> The artist found his muse.

Minhyun's whisper of _I love you_  painted Jonghyun's world in color. When he fell asleep that night-- barely waking out of his dazed, post- _I-love-you_  state to flick off his lamp-- he fell asleep in color. He _dreamed_  in color; he saw the beauty of Minhyun's eyes and the beauty of the sky behind him. The two colors he could recognize were green and blue-- green, the color of the grass and the trees-- and blue, the color of the sky. He had no idea what the color in Minhyun's eyes were, but he knew it was his favorite. And when he woke up, he thought it was some horrible trick. He thought the black and white fading into these beautiful colors was some kind of horrible nightmare in which everything was a joke, but he woke to find he hated the color of his pajamas and his hair was a similar color to that of Minhyun's eyes.

 _Hell_ , Jonghyun thought, _I'm in love_.

Jonghyun didn't think to call his parents first thing. He didn't think to message his friends; he didn't even think to take the news to Minhyun. Instead, he lost himself in his paint room, looking over his paintings. He noticed how choppy his colors were, but he could also understand why lovers loved his paintings. The colors seemed odd, didn't contrast each other in the way people claimed a painting should, but they were the paintings of a man who had yet to find love -- and it made sense.

Jonghyun moved to pick up his paints-- the paints he came into the room for-- and opened up the one labeled brown. He squeezed a bit onto his finger, and he was faced with a darker shade of Minhyun's eyes -- and he fell in love with the color called brown. He turned to one of his unfinished paintings and began to shade brown into the background; he didn't even bother with a paintbrush. He finger-painted like a child discovering the world; brown sunk into each one of his canvases, and it was _beautiful_.

Jonghyun stopped painting when three of his fingers were completely brown, when he remembered that he was in love with Minhyun and he had no right to make Minhyun wait another lonely moment for love. Jonghyun put his paints away-- he rushed to the bathroom and cleaned his hands, ruined a white towel with brown color. He noticed multiple splotches of color on some of his towels-- careless washing of his hands, he supposed, but he still didn't care. He found his phone; he called Minhyun. Should he even call, or should he just go over? Too late to reconsider-- Minhyun had answered his phone, a confused, sleepy "Hello?" sounding through. Jonghyun was halfway down the stairs when his voice floated through the receiver; and Jonghyun didn't think twice. He blurted, "I love you, too."

Minhyun was silent-- silent long enough for Jonghyun to put his shoes on, to leave his house with nothing but his phone. Minhyun spoke when Jonghyun's feet hit the sidewalk, "Wh-what?"

"I love you, Minhyun. I-I love you--" Jonghyun stopped. He was running; he was out of breath; he was at the corner of Minhyun's house and he was smiling like an idiot. The trees were green; the sky was blue. The flowers varied in color; everything was _beautiful_. Minhyun's door was blue. Jonghyun saw some black, some white, some grey; but it mixed with vibrant color and the beauty of earth and Jonghyun found it all to be blurry-- blurry, because tears had sprung to his eyes-- blurry, because tears were going to shed in seconds.

"You love me?" Minhyun asked. Jonghyun couldn't think to do anything but nod; but that wouldn't work. Minhyun couldn't see him-- not yet.

Jonghyun's body began to carry him-- closer and closer; he stood on the porch, and he almost reached to knock on the door, but he remembered Minhyun was in his hand, listening to him, so he told Minhyun, "Please come outside," and Minhyun was silent for a moment. Silence; and then creaking floorboards, and a lock undone-- and a click of the phone as the door was creaking open.

Minhyun was standing there with a tear on his cheek-- a tear that had no color, not even white, the supposed absence of color. Minhyun's pajamas were a smiliar color to that of the roses on his porch; his hair was almost the same color as Jonghyun's. His trembling lips were beautiful-- beautiful, and Jonghyun leaned in to kiss them-- no introduction, no warning. Minhyun didn't need one. Salt slid across Jonghyun's bottom lip as he kissed Minhyun, and he could only assume the beautiful boy in his arms was crying. He doubted if Minhyun's mouth tasted of salt itself; though he had never kissed anyone before. (Then again, Minhyun's tongue tasted much too sweet, and his lips tasted sweet past the bead of salt on the corner of Jonghyun's mouth; he must be crying.)

"Don't cry." Jonghyun muttered before he had even confirmed if Minhyun was crying or not. A breath back, and he found he was right; Minhyun had more colorless tears slipping down his face. His sweet lips were pulled into a smile, a heavy breath out containing a laugh that showed he found some amusement in Jonghyun's statement-- whether he meant it was funny for him not to cry in this situation or that he was embarrassed that he was, Jonghyun had no idea. He could ask, but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Minhyun asked, making no gesture except to wipe his tears. Jonghyun said "Yes" right away, because everything was beautiful. The colors, the love, _Minhyun_. Jonghyun had no idea anything could be so pretty.

"Are you happy you can see color?" Minhyun asked, wiping away the last of his tears. Jonghyun almost nodded-- _almost_ , and then he thought about it. He thought about the fact that Minhyun had loved him for years, and Jonghyun knew he wasn't looking for an excited _yes_. He doubted Minhyun was _looking_  for an answer of any kind, and that he would take any answer Jonghyun gave with a happy heart, but Jonghyun knew he deserved more. Minhyun's heart knew more than his mind, and it would sink knowing that Jonghyun was more excited for color than he was for Minhyun's love. (Jonghyun's heart also knew better than Jonghyun's head; it knew that Jonghyun was much happier to love Minhyun than he was to see the world in color.)

"I'm happy to give you love." Jonghyun said. Minhyun looked shocked at the answer; his heart pulled the expression onto his face. Jonghyun pulled Minhyun to him-- a gentle hug with gentle arms and a gentle whisper of "I'm so happy to be in love with you."

"Jonghyun," Minhyun whispered, like he just couldn't believe it. His heart was flattered; it was happy. Jonghyun's, too. They danced together in their respective chests while their arms held one another-- Jonghyun's, wrapped loosely around Minhyun's waist, chin hooked over his shoulder-- Minhyun's, pressed tightly against his chest, nose buried in Jonghyun's shoulder. For a moment, silence consumed them-- comfortable silence, and then doubt tugged at Minhyun's vocal cords, "Isn't it beautiful, though?"

"Loving you? The most beautiful thing I've ever seen-- felt-- heard-- tasted--"

" _Jonghyun_ ," Minhyun muttered, tilting his head just enough that his eyes were against Jonghyun's shoulder instead of his nose. More colorless tears soaked into Jonghyun's shirt; and Jonghyun would discover that the colorless tears mixed with whatever color his shirt was made it a darker shade of that color. Strange, Jonghyun thought, but he was sure there was some other science behind it-- something he didn't care about, because Minhyun was much more important. He always had been.

It was such a shame Jonghyun had just figured it out.

 

  
\- + -

 

  
That afternoon, Jonghyun took Minhyun to his house. The two had breakfast together at Minhyun's house and, oddly enough, even though they were both in love now, nothing much had changed. Apart from the kisses over the breakfast table and the linked fingers, nothing felt different. It _looked_  different; Jonghyun could recognize the beauty of the world now that he loved Minhyun-- how everything looked brighter, thanks to much more than the color, but nothing felt different. There was an extra flutter in his heart when Minhyun smiled at him, and an extra visible tooth when Minhyun said something funny, but he was still Minhyun's best friend.

Jonghyun thought, perhaps, he had been in love all along, but his brain was just now catching on.

Jonghyun sat Minhyun on the couch when the two entered his home, and wondered aloud if he could paint Minhyun. Minhyun bit his lip-- pink, Jonghyun found out-- and told him yes; as long as he didn't color everything the way he saw it. Jonghyun asked if it was okay to at least keep his eyes the same color. Minhyun blinked once, and he said yes.

Jonghyun filled his canvas with more brown than was in his entire home. He painted Minhyun's hair a dark, dark shade of brown-- much darker than Minhyun's hair really was. Minhyun's eyes were a perfect shade of brown-- just the way they were. His fingers became brown on the canvas; his pants were brown as well. He had to color Minhyun's pants dark so that they might not blend with his fingers, which were gently fitted over his knee.

Jonghyun painted Minhyun's face pink-- a color he had seen on Minhyun's cheeks earlier that day. His lips became red, and Minhyun commented later that it looked as though he was wearing lipstick, and perhaps that would look good on him. Jonghyun told him he would look beautiful no matter what. Minhyun's face began to look like the painting.

Minhyun's shirt was green; the background was yellow. Black faded into the canvas as Jonghyun painted in the details, as well as some grey around Minhyun's hair and nails. White bled through his paint; but Jonghyun dipped his paint brush into the color surrounding the white and brushed them away. He added in random splashes of color here and there-- mixed them like he did in his old paintings. After all, he would forget, sometimes, which color he put where-- couldn't remember if the sky was purple or orange on which painting, so he would take a guess. He blended some orange into the background, and then some purple, and discovered it looked pretty. He painted a purple and blue blotch onto Minhyun's lip. Minhyun commented that it looked as though he had a bruise. Jonghyun only knew bruises as dark, dark spots upon someone's skin, and he had only seen one once-- one time when he smashed his hip against a table and cursed at himself for a moment. The next day, when he was showering (accidentally turning it cold instead of hot because he couldn't see the damn blue or red and he always forgot which way was which), he saw the dark, dark mark. He showed Minhyun, who pointed out purple and blue, and told him it would heal soon.

"You paint quickly," Minhyun muttered. He'd only been sitting there for about two hours. He hadn't moved half an inch except for when a scratch on his neck interrupted him-- and by then, Jonghyun was done with most of his painting-- had only yet to add the details. Jonghyun smiled, "I've practiced a lot," and Minhyun gave him a nod and a smile like it was obvious he did. Minhyun looked at the painting for some more minutes, and then he smiled. An idea had popped into his mind; he moved over to the desk in the room-- white, a color Jonghyun could see before he fell in love-- and opened the drawer. He stole the notebook from the drawer; he stole a pencil, too, and then he settled on the couch. He told Jonghyun "Paint something else," and Jonghyun nodded. Brand new canvas, brand new color in Minhyun's hair, a whole lot of brown. He painted Minhyun as he was-- writing, and looking up at Jonghyun every once in a while. Jonghyun caught a beautiful image of him in his mind-- peeking up at Jonghyun with his bottom lip between his teeth, and he painted it. He painted and painted until evening fell; and Minhyun wrote and wrote until the same time. When Jonghyun was done, Minhyun was done-- although about three minutes later. Jonghyun showed Minhyun the painting. Minhyun showed Jonghyun his script. Both were works of art.

It became a routine. Every afternoon, Jonghyun would paint, and Minhyun would write. It was the time in which they worked, often bleeding into the night and, a couple times, even into early morning. It was unhealthy, Minki commented, to stay inside so much; so Jonghyun began to collect Minhyun in the morning, take him to breakfast, and then to work. Minki told them that was a little bit better, but they should start going out with him and Dongho-- out on double dates. They promised they would--if they had a moment.

"I think you should start painting something other than me. I don't know how well I'll sell." Minhyun muttered to Jonghyun one day-- one day when he couldn't think of anything to write and he couldn't sit still long enough for Jonghyun to paint him, anyway. Jonghyun had the television on, looking for inspiration. He was searching for a flower field or an animal channel. Polar bears or grizzly bears; seals or penguins; something in which he could swap the colors. A brown penguin or a pink bear-- a red butterfly or an orange caterpillar (though he was sure those existed somewhere).

"You sell beautifully, baby." Jonghyun said, laying his hand over his shoulder to link fingers with Minhyun. "Our love sells like gold-- people have always been interested in my paintings because of the loneliness, but they're much more interested in the love."

"And your obsession with brown." Minhyun said. He draped himself further over Jonghyun's shoulder, moving his arms so that their fingers were no longer linked. Jonghyun could see his pouting lips from the corner of his eye. Minhyun was particularly upset that he couldn't think of anything to write-- that his story about a beautiful painter was all but finished, but not yet edited; and he was hesitating to send it to his editor, because he felt as though it wasn't finished. Jonghyun had read most of it, and he thought it was beautiful. Minhyun told him he didn't know the ending yet.

"Most people don't like brown," Minhyun cotninued with Jonghyun didn't say anything-- his mind preoccupied with work and the struggle to find inspiration. "Lots of people think it's an ugly color."

"Strange. It's my favorite." Jonghyun said. The conversation topic gave him an idea, and he asked, "What's your favorite color, by the way? You've never told me."

"Blue. Dark blue." Minhyun said. Jonghyun raised an eyebrow, "Why?" and Minhyun shrugged, bumping the back of Jonghyun's neck slightly as he did, "I thought it would look pretty in your hair."

Jonghyun didn't find inspiration that day, and the two took the opportunity to satisfy Minki's craving to have a double date. When Minhyun excused himself to the bathroom-- always had to when he went out to dinner-- Jonghyun asked Minki and Dongho if they knew anyone who could to his hair for him. Minki raised two fingers to signal to himself, and told him, "Give me a date, a time, and a color."

That Saturday, at only six in the morning (Jonghyun thought he was blessed to have a friend like Minki, who was so willing to do anything for his best friends), Jonghyun sat in the middle of Minki's living room and dyed his hair a deep blue. Jonghyun liked spending time at Minki's house. Before, he hadn't. It had been rather depressing to watch Dongho and Minki dance around each other in typical routine and sometimes come together to share a kiss or ask a question-- like "Should I paint my nails black or blue?" or "Should I wear a black or blue tie?" and more questions to do with color. The way in which Minki and Dongho lived was very interesting. They didn't really seem like lovers at all, but they were a perfect couple all the same. Jonghyun couldn't help but think they were more beautiful in color-- when Dongho asked "Are you coloring his hair black or blue?" and Minki held up a blue glove, it was stunning.

It was funny, after Jonghyun went home that morning to take a quick shower-- " _Quick_ ," Minki pressed, "And don't rinse for too long, or use a white towel," and Jonghyun wanted to mention that he only really had white towels, but he decided against it. They were all ruined, anyway-- one was nearly completely brown by now. He added blue to the mix as he dried his hair; as he got dressed and ready to take Minhyun to breakfast. 9:15, he knocked on Minhyun's door. Minhyun was also already dressed, and his jaw fell open as he caught sight of Jonghyun-- new hoodie falling off his shoulder (it had been Dongho's, one he happened not to want anymore, and it was big on both of them), new hair falling over his eyes (Minki had given him a bit of a trim, muttering that his hair was too long). Minhyun stared at Jonghyun for a couple long moments, and then he surged forward, crushing his lips onto Jonghyun's.

"You just gave me an idea for my story," Minhyun muttered, breathless after kissing Jonghyun a little too long-- and then he pulled Jonghyun inside, breakfast forgotten by both men.


	5. Thank You (Evening by Evening)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You make me fall in love_ ;  
> \-- evening by evening.

_**Thank You**._   
_Kim Jonghyun, thank you. I have so many things to say to you, and as much room as I would like to write it all down, but it's difficult. It's difficult to explain how thankful I am to you, or what I'm thankful for. If I say I'm thankful to you for being you, would you understand? If I say I'm thankful that you love to paint, and that you colored your hair blue just for me, would you know how I feel? Perhaps for the latter, you'd think you knew, but do you? Do you know how much I love you, just for the simple act of turning your hair blue? Do you know how much I love you each time you paint? Do you know, Jonghyun? Do you?_

_I doubt if I can make you understand. I doubt if I can make anyone understand. How much I love you, how thankful I am just for you, wouldn't make sense to anyone other than me. Perhaps if you love me the same way I love you, you'd know. But, do you? I know you love me as much-- I would never doubt that, but we all love in different ways. You may love me in color instead of in gratitude. That's okay, because I love the way you love. I just love you._

_So, thank you. Every day, every night; thank you. I love you_.

 

Jonghyun painted his canvas a light, light brown and slowly began to write upon it in darker, browner paint. The words were accompanied by flowers-- orange and yellow and purple. They peeked out from behind each letter, each syllable of Jonghyun's message; and it was all for Minhyun.

 _Thank You._  
 _Hwang Minhyun, thank you. I do love you in color, but I would love you in black and white, too._  
 _Evening by evening, thank you_.

Jonghyun couldn't fit as many words on a canvas as Minhyun could in a book, especially when his canvas was crowded with flowers, but he knew Minhyun would find more words hidden behind the flowers that even Jonghyun hadn't thought about. He knew, because he loved Jonghyun. And he knew that Jonghyun loved him just the same, if not with a different method.

"It's beautiful." Minhyun told him when Jonghyun presented the painting to him. Jonghyun made it like an early anniversary gift-- just a week before their anniversary, and Jonghyun couldn't keep it to himself anymore. Minhyun had to see it; Minhyun had to know. His book had been published for two months, and Jonghyun had only mentioned it once.

Minhyun had a smile on his face, a response to the painting, but a different emotion in his eyes, also a response to the painting-- likely more directed at the hidden words. Minhyun's arms snaked around his own waist-- one palm finding his lips a moment later in order to cover half of his crying face. Although the tears were brought by a smile, Jonghyun regretted making Minhyun cry.

Jonghyun had Minhyun in his arms before the first tear fell; and the first tear had barely fallen before Minhyun was laughing, returning the hold, "When did I become such a sap?"

"When I fell in love with you." Jonghyun was able to answer almost immediately. His only hesitation came as he focused on wiping a few tears off of Minhyun's cheeks. Minhyun was already wiping them away himself, eyes rolled up to the sky as he wondered when he had become so soft, so easy of crying. Minhyun looked soft like this-- vunerable, as most people did when they shed tears-- but beautiful in a way that Jonghyun couldn't exactly describe. It was strange for him to think Minhyun was beautiful when he cried, he thought, but he supposed he didn't really think that. He thought it was beautiful when Minhyun got so happy that laughter wasn't enough-- that he had to cry because the human body craved emotional expression and his body was so happy it mixed everything up. So, he looked delicate, with his wet cheeks resting in Jonghyun's gentle palms and his sweater paws falling weak to Jonghyun's wrist. Jonghyun stared into his eyes for some breathless moments and all he could do was smile. He was beautiful, Jonghyun was reminded. Day by day, he was reminded. Evening by evening, he was reminded. When Minhyun opened up to him like this-- when his body expressed his emotion-- Jonghyun was reminded.

"Thank you," Jonghyun muttered softly, suddenly. Minhyun raised a curious eyebrow, another tear slipping from his eye at the same time. Jonghyun focused on it for just a second, finding beauty in the colorless emotion. He smiled as he wiped it away; he smiled as he looked back into Minhyun's eyes, studying them, "You give me... so much beauty. You opened up an entire world of beauty and you give yourself to me every day and I'm so-- _so_  grateful to have so much beauty in my grasp."

"Stop." Minhyun muttered, hiding his face from embarrassment. He happened to find Jonghyun's shoulder a great place to hide; and he buried his face in his hands at the same time; and Jonghyun was able to hold him again-- hold him as he cried, and although the tears were that of happiness, Jonghyun still felt sick to the fact that he'd made Minhyun cry. He tried to soothe it-- rubbed his back and told Minhyun "I love you so much," but it brought more tears, and Jonghyun decided to just stay silent. Silent, silent, silent until Minhyun was ready to speak, "I love you so much, too. More than anything."

"I'm sorry." Jonghyun muttered. Minhyun was quiet, waiting for Jonghyun to continue. Jonghyun lay his regrets in a pout, laying his chin across Minhyun's back and letting his apology spill, "I'm as sorry to you as I am thankful. I hate that you had to spend three lonely years while you waited for me to catch up. I hate that you were lonelier than I was and all I could focus on was the fact that I was lonely. I'm sorry I took advantage of you for color. I'm so sorry."

Minhyun seemed at a loss for words. He parted his lips, and then he let them fall together again. More silence surrounded the two, and, finally, Minhyun figured out what to say, "You don't have to be sorry just because your mind didn't catch up to your heart."

Jonghyun gulped back tears that had begun to form in his own eyes. He gripped the back of Minhyun's sweater and told him "I love you" again, and Minhyun nodded against his shoulder, "I know. I know-- I love you, too--" and neither of the two could believe how emotional they were, but after three years of being lonely, it was understandable.

 

  
By the time their anniversary came, they were both short of gifts. Minhyun's had been a copy of the book he'd written; Jonghyun's had been the painting. Minhyun hung his gift on the wall; Jonghyun kept his bookmarked on his nightstand. It was beautiful, the painting; it looked so at home, mounted on his beige walls. It was beautiful, the book; it looked so relaxed, laying against his white desk. The artists were happy.

Instead of exchanging gifts on their anniversary (considering they had none), they went to breakfast. It was the same thing they did almost every day-- apart from cook-at-home Saturdays and lazy, let's-not-eat-this-morning Sunday. Their anniversary happened to fall on a Saturday, but they went out to breakfast anyway. And then they went out to lunch after a quick run home, some work done, and a nap. They went to a movie after lunch; and they hadn't left room for popcorn but they got some anyway. After that, a walk, and then dinner-- too much food all in one day, but they found room for wine, for dessert; and for giggles and happiness.

"I think I like white wine better than red," Minhyun commented, and Jonghyun suddenly noticed how absent his mind was when it came to color. He noticed that he didn't think about it much-- it was subconscious now that he knew all the colors; it was just another little factor of life, as it had been for a while. Minki was right, after all. He was so focused on love-- so _in love_ , that color just didn't matter anymore. His loneliness had faded away.


	6. Look (A Starlight Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Baby, you_ \--  
> you're beautiful, like the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always have the simplest epilogues

_Let's stargaze_.

Jonghyun picked up his phone when he heard it buzz, and he smiled at the message he received. He was sitting in his living room, finishing a painting that he had started earlier that week. It was much more intricate than his other paintings, and he was focusing on making the colors match-- something he did just every once in a while. He took a break in order to reply, a question of _Where?_  and it didn't take very long for Minhyun to reply.

 _In our bed._  
_I don't want to go anywhere._  
_I just want some company_.

 _I'll be your company_ , Jonghyun replied-- easy. He was quick to wash up-- put his paints away, completely wash his hands before he dried them on a white towel. He didn't bother to change before he stepped onto his balcony, where Hwang Minhyun was waiting. Jonghyun shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders and wrapped it and his arms around Minhyun. Minhyun did nothing but smile-- a very gentle smile with words to accompany, "Aren't the stars beautiful tonight?"

Jonghyun took a look before replying. There was an odd number of stars in the sky-- much more than usual. They twinkled a bright white light at Jonghyun-- but the kind of light that humans could bare to look at. It wasn't like the sun-- it wasn't bright and hot and intolerable, sometimes. The moon and the stars were always beautiful to look at; always tolerable; always gentle on the eyes. Jonghyun thought he didn't really need color if he could just look at the sky all night.

Eventually, Jonghyun kissed the back of Minhyun's head, and he replied, "Yes, they're gorgeous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 80% of the inspiration for this came from the fact that there are like zero nu'est fics out there. The other 20% obviously came from the Canvas album.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! I know this whole thing was simple and quite literally just me releasing my Minhyun x Jonghyun love ~~_( **can you believe there is only one other minhyun x jonghyun fic on ao3 right now because i seriously cannot** )_~~ but I hope it was fun to read anyway! Again, thank you <3


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